Phantom's Shadows
by Arkamendez
Summary: 19 months post AA5. Now in charge of the Agency, Apollo must tackle a slew of new cases that will test his creed and abilities with a new colleague - and a familiar friend. In doing so, he will discover a dangerous foe who strikes from the shadows and operates on a global scale. Can Justice stop this criminal before things get out of hand?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All characters and properties belong to their respective owners. I don't own Ace Attorney, Capcom does. **

* * *

** Prologue**

**Date**: 11th December

**Time**: UNKNOWN

**Location**: UNKNOWN

_"Who are you?" an unfamiliar voice with a British accent asked him._

_"Me? I am Apollo Justice, a defence attorney. Or I was, until now."_

_The Caucasian man in front of him nodded. He had a messy brown clot of hair on his head. Long sideburns ran down to the tips of his earlobes. He wore a brown overcoat, a pinstripe suit, a brown tie and a pair of red Converse runners. In his hand he held a silver pen with a blue tip. Hazel eyes attentively watched Justice. He was a skinny fellow, despite all the clothes he was wearing. "And you are?"_

_The response was immediate, "John Smith. Doctor John Smith."_

_"Any idea where we are, Dr Smith?"_

_The doctor sniffed. "Haven't a clue. Don't think our captors are planning to tell us anytime soon, either," he smoothly replied._

_"By the way, what are you a doctor of?"_

_"Stuff. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey complicated stuff. ( Stuff that an ordinary human like you wouldn't easily understand.)"_

_"...okaaay." ( He sounds like a fraud to me.)_

_They were in a small blue room, with company. To Apollo's left sat a man clad in crimson. Dark, stylish sunglasses hid his eyes. His blonde hair was gelled in a long streak that stretched upwards, resembling a banana. He had white shoes on, a black shirt with a bleach-white tie, a red blazer and red pants. His face was sombre and he tilted his head back, to ease some of the muscles that had gone stiff in his neck. He was a systems engineer, one of the best in the industry, according to himself. Lanky and tall, he was perhaps the tallest out of all of them. His skin had a smooth, creamy tone._

_Behind Mr Smith was a well-built, mildly tanned man dressed in a dark, ocean-coloured long-coat, with silver floral designs that decorated his leather-clad shoulders. A combat vest could be seen beneath. Smart, black shoes covered his feet and grey trousers went from waist to ankles. He had bright, piercing blue eyes and his chin had a goatee that originated from under his nostrils, and given freedom, it grew, curving around his lips and the individual roads of facial hair joined together at his chin. He was the Chief of Security in a bio-tech corporation. His hair possessed the same tone of darkness as his beard._

_Apollo felt something or rather,_ someone_ press gently against his back, resting their head on his right shoulder and putting a gloved hand on his chest. He welcomed the close, physical contact, tilting his head to the side into autumn-orange hair, catching a glimpse of yellow fabric from his peripherals._

_There was a mass of grey near John. It was the sleeping form of a man who had a grey beard that drooped down to his stomach. It made him like an old man but in reality he was in his thirties. "He's taking a nap, that's all," Smith jerked his head at the stranger._

_"You know what I just realised? We - all of us here play the biggest role in this. In fact, you could say we're the main characters."_

_Recieving silence and confused faces, Smith continued. "You know what I'm taking about. This whole fiasco. Since we've got time to kill - believe me, we have plenty of it - why don't we tell each other how we got involved in this. A campfire tale, except not really."_

_"So," John clapped his hands, "who wants to go first?"_

_Quietness greeted him. Eventually a hand was raised. It was Apollo's. "Um, I'll go first."_

_( I knew you would say that.) "Alright, take it away, Mr Justice."_

_The attorney leaned forward slightly._

_"I think this all started with me when I got that letter three months ago..."_

* * *

**Date**: 1st September

**Time**: 11:56

**Location**: The Former Wright Anything Agency

It was a peaceful afternoon in late Spring. The sun cast its hot rays over the city, illuminating it.

Apollo Justice was at the door of the Agency, cycling through the mail he got that morning.

He wore a crimson suit - blood-red blazer and pants. A creamy-yellow tie ran under his collar and down his chest. Bill. He set that aside. Spam. The flyer was flung in the waste basket at his feet. Another bill. Placing it on the drawer to his left, Apollo returned his attention to the envelopes in his hand. This went on for 5 minutes. Reaching the end of his task, he opened the final envelope. It was wider and thinner than the rest. On one side, scraggly words were inked in blue. Probably from a fountain pen. He ambled back to his desk, passing Mr Hat. It stood nearby a memorial of the old times. Earlier this morning, Apollo had cleaned up the office. Since it was his and going to be his alone, he wanted it in pristine, top shape. No more junk cluttering up the room and spread all over the floor. Another one of the things he picked up from his former boss, who was rotting in prison this moment. Everything was organised: trash was disposed of, trinkets and memoribilla were stacked and placed carefully. The only area the new owner of the Agency didn`t touch was the one that had all of Trucy`s old stuff. Trucy. The bright, joyful young fire in her eyes had dimmed marginlly since that day 6 months ago. Apollo knew it wasn't easy for the young Gramarye.

She was being cheerful for his sake, as well as her own. He dropped his package on his desk and walked up to the window.

The streets below teemed with life. Masses of people bustled to and fro their destinations.

Justice had no cases today, or anytime soon as far as he knew. He had garnered a favourable reputation and was regarded as one of the best lawyers in the region. The UR-1 case had attracted a lot of publicity – public interviews, photograph ambushes, among other things. His tactics in court and his search for the truth threw him in the same zone as the legends – the deceased Gregory Edgeworth, the former Mia Fey and the former proprietor of this law firm.

He brought his left hand up to his face. The sleeve slid away, revealing a naked wrist, slightly pale from the time he used to wear a bracelet. Apollo never questioned where his power came from. He just took what he had, practised and used it to the best of his ability. Upon learning the truth, he stopped carrying it on his wrist and gave it to Trucy instead. He didn't feel it was right, that it was his anymore. Learning his true heritage was an emotional pain for Apollo that had boiled in his heart. He never said a word for a week to any of his friends. And it would have stayed that way had it not been for a certain magician girl. Trucy managed to talk Apollo around and they got on with their lives.

( Besides, the bracelet looks better on Trucy anyway.)

With that reassuring thought in mind, Apollo returned to his desk and looked at the contents of the envelope. It was an application form. Smiling fondly, Apollo recalled the time he was fresh out of law school, searching for a firm to accept him. By the time he reached the Gavin & Co. Law firm, he'd already sent 12 forms! Every time he was turned down, it was because of his "over-enthusiasm". So, the first lesson he got from Mr Gavin was controlling his emotions. Something he only became skilled at recently. Why did Gavin hire him? It was a question that occasionally plagued his mind. Every time he would ask his former boss, Kristoph skipped around it or altogether abruptly concluded their conversation.

( Dwelling on the past is not good for you. You have to live in the moment – the present – not the past.)

He glanced at the name and mugshot clipped on to the single page. Apollo did a double-take.

That face... it was familiar... it all came back to him. Apollo smiled.

( So you've finally got your badge, huh? But why here? Maybe he sent out a dozen forms too. It's not easy to join a firm these days, not with people having very high standards. Even I have my own standards.)

Whenever, someone applied to the Agency, looking for a position, he would conduct an interview with them and ask three simple questions. If they answered dishonestly, his wrist stiffened and the blood-flow slowed. As of now, he had currently dealt with six applicants and sent them all away.

Having a one-in-two-billion gene that helped tell if people were telling lies was useful. A click resonated throughout the apartment. Apollo looked up. He heard feet shuffling. He stood up to greet the entree only to collide with a mass that ensnared her arms around his back and hugged him.

"Polly!" Trucy happily laughed. " Truce, it's great to see you." After, they untangled, Apollo said, "How're things coming along?"

" I'm almost ready to move in! Just gotta get the last two bags out tomorrow! And..." she hugged him again, gently this time.

"... I'll miss you, 'Pollo."

The corners of his lips tugged upwards. " I'll be sure to visit you as much as I can," he promised his sister. She was ready to leave the Agency tomorrow – permanently or otherwise, Apollo didn't know. But he did know that it was going to be awfully lonely at the office. He glanced at his desk behind them.

Or maybe not.

* * *

In a well-filtered, spotless room a monotonous beep echoed. A green line speed across a screen, traversing up then down, shooting up and finishing its jagged run across the screen. Beside the heart-beat monitor was a bed on wheels. An IV went from the pouch hanging on a pole to tender flesh in the arm belonging to the inhabitant of the bed. The man's eyes were closed and his normally-black hair had grayed visibly. The man had not made even one motion for 6 months.

This was the former Chief Prosecutor.

* * *

An immaculately dressed man covered in black sat before a ginormous television screen. His face was protected by a white mask. On it was drawn a single ink-black question mark. A list of names, one crossed out, were on the screen. Among them was:

**Trucy Enigmar**

**Apollo Justice**

**Case Closed** crossed out the final name.

A smug grin seemed to radiate from behind the question mark.

"I have you all in my sights now. Soon, everything I need will be at my fingertips. Literally."

* * *

A door creaked open, followed by two pairs of footsteps.

"How is he? Any change? Has he moved or even twitched an eyebrow or - "

"No, nothing. He's been the same as always. Since that tragic failure nine months ago."

"Why haven't you done anything? You could inject some nano machines into his skull and everything would be fi -"

"I refuse. It's just wrong – a man sitting up and continuing with life as if nothing ever happened with those things electrocuting his brain cells slowly to the brink of death. You should know better than that, Detective."

"Scientifically speaking, that's... possible. Regardless, you are just letting him rot in here, aren't you? That's not what the conjurer of miracles would do."

"... I know. I'm doing the best I can."

"Oh really? If you were actually putting in weight behind your actions Mr Edgeworth would on his feet running the Office, not lying like some kind... I don't even want to say it. Besides, I have a wedding coming up. It'd be nice to have him there..."

"Funding has been low here for a while and most of the other staff around here have forgotten him. I'll do what I can and I'll call you tomorrow, Ema."

"... Okay. Thanks Doc."

The voices subsided and once more only the constant monotonous beep of the heart monitor could be heard.

Just as the door closed, the pane of glass opposite it slid away and a leg was swung over the window sill. Followed by another leg. (Thank God his room is next to the fire escape.)

The intruder wore a grey hoodie, identically-colored tracksuit bottoms and... sandals.

(Looks like you've been busy, Edgeworth, unlike me.) With that sarcastic thought in mind, he shuffled closer to the bed. It was a small room, shaped like an enormous box. Lighting embedded in the ceiling shone onto the space beneath them.

He had no idea if the man could hear, but he said what he wanted to anyway.

"They're after me, Edgeworth. They knew we were onto them. That's why they did this to you. The decisions I took, I hope – I hope they were the right one. Heh, Wright ones... Anyway, I guess I came to say goodbye," the man ran an index finger over the comatose patient's chin. (This might be the last time I'll ever see you.)

He stood up. (Time to make one last stop...)

A small part of Miles Edgewoth's was functioning. Mind you, merely a small portion. But he heard and registered everything that occurred in his room today. So, when the voices disappeared and a new presence showed up, he felt a nagging urge to hug the visitor. It is incredibly frustrating when your body does not obey your mental commands. In the end, all he managed to do was detect the tingling touch on his – er, let's not go there. He mentally sighed.

Miles Edgeworth knew what condition he was in, he knew what caused it, but there was nothing he could do. Literally. His body lay stiff like a mannequin, warm as any human. He listened to the hushed babbling, understanding the worry and concern in the speaker's tone.

Miles sensed the visitor vanish, a feeling a dread pulsed in the sole dark, functioning corner of his brain.

His mind fled to the near past, close to the end of his time as Chief Prosecutor. He and his team of friends and colleagues had discovered a frightening truth, after months of vigorous, hard, often fruitless work that consisted of investigating, backtracking and questioning. Edgeworth was aware the moment he started trailing undetermined leads and questioning shady witnesses related to cold cases, he had signed up to a dangerous game where the stakes were high.

His efforts put everyone close to him, be it directly or connected through dear friends, at risk. (Once the leader is neutralised, the rest of the group will go quiet, unsure of what to do.) It was what he saw many times. But the opposition wasn't going to call it a day after disposing the leader. They would no doubt hunt every one of them down to silence them, to stop the truth leaking out to the general public.

Hot anger bubbled inside Miles. He needed to complete his mission. He needed to draw closure on this international sensitive case and shed light on the truth.

The fingers on his left hand curled inwards, forming a fist. He clenched it. Miles Edgeworth, for the first time in 6 months, moved of his own accord.

* * *

The next day, Apollo escorted Trucy to where she was going to study: Ivy University. ( It's funny, she is following in the footsteps of her father, blissfully unaware...). The younger sibling probably didn't know her father went here to do Law and Art. She, on the other hand, was going to studying Drama and... he could not recall the second subject she mentioned to him earlier. Trucy was definitely going to be participating in a "Magic Acts Club", she promised. "Gotta keep the Gramyrye flame burning brightly," was the cheerful explanation for that. ( I need to look out for her, no matter the circumstances...). They said their goodbyes, embracing each other. He made her promise to be careful and call him in case of an emergency. ( I'll try to visit and come by as much as I can...) - Justice did not forget his promise yesterday. Sharing a smile, they parted ways and Apollo returned to the agency, ready for the interview.

Apollo wanted to keep the interview brief and formal; he wasn't the type to waste time pointlessly. Upon detecting 3 brisk, strong knocks from the door, Apollo had let his newest candidate in and invited him to sit opposite himself. Their backs were hunched over and their gazes were more piercing than the sharpest sword in existence. The man facing the attorney had not changed whatsoever since the last time he saw him in late 2027. His glasses glinted in the artificial light the apartment provided and his dark, odd hair was gelled as always. The 27 year-old wore a casual shirt with jeans, complimented with navy-blue runners. His outfit contrasted starkly to Apollo's own clothes, who wore his red suit.

When asked the Three Questions, the candidate had answered carefully and concisely, but 's bracelet was no longer with longer with him ( he gave that away to a certain magician girl), but that did not mean his power had dimmed. Thanks to intense training ( with some assistance from Trucy) his power was now amplified a hundred-fold. He had become excellent at sensing tells.

His right hand rested on his left wrist, half-hidden by a scarlet sleeve. "Still pursuing tells, eh? You haven't changed, sir." Apollo blinked. ( I was kinda obvious, wasn't I?)

"I assume this is the part where you tell me to get out or... am I accepted?" the voice carried on. The interviewer looked up. The other man was smirking confidently, though his eyes spoke a different tale; they were nervously rolling in their sockets. ( You still have that band, huh?) Apollo extended his hand.

"Welcome to the Justice and Co. Law firm, Hugh O'Conner."

Hugh smiled and shook his new boss's hand. ( Guess it won't be lonely anymore...)

* * *

Back in the underground cave, the masked man in black grinned toothily.

His search for his troublesome, elusive quarry was successful, because his agent on the scene transmitted the data to him on-screen, showing the current location and physical condition.

"Bingo. We have our man. Now, about that kidnapping..."

* * *

**AN: **I am doing this fanfic for two reasons. First, I want to practice and improve my standard of writing. Second, I want to contribute to the fandom I'm happy being a part of. Constructive criticism is appreciated and please point out any mistakes I made.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Ace Attorney, Capcom does. Otherwise it would be a shipfest and you'd experience the bizarrest of pairings.

* * *

A new client

Time passed. Clouds shifted. The sun set and rose. The only Star in the solar system brought the city warmth and light. A new day had begun. A new cycle. One that was carried out over and over on a daily basis.

#

7 HOURS EARLIER...

An endless pool of crimson flooded the wooden surface, reaching outwards, away from the wound it came from. Someone's head lay face-down in the ever-expanding, millimeter by millimeter, puddle of red. Their eyes were open... and lifeless. A man was nearby. His bleach-white shoes were stained with the same fluid that was spreading all over the desk. He felt his blonde hair. It felt fake. It _was _fake. Because it wasn't connected to roots within his scalp, therefore his 'hair' contained no nerves. He adjusted his sunglasses – part of the disguise – and left the dead man alone.

#

DATE: 3rd September

TIME: 09:51

LOCATION: Justice & Co. Law Firm (previously known as the Wright Anything Agency)

Apollo was up and about. He had done his 'Chords of Steel' training, eaten breakfast and now he was organising case files in his office. Apollo put away the manilla folder that was on his desk only a day ago. Case solved and closed. He slipped it into an alphbetical order drawer. Today, he was dressed in his standard outfit, minus the blazer. The top button on his shirt was undone. His tie was navy-blue.

Done cleaning the office, Apollo picked up the remote and switched on the TV. The news channel came on. A female reporter was speaking.

"-Yomiel Ichete, 34 years old, an employee at Sarif Industries, was only arrested this morning, suspected of murdering his colleague. The basis of the arrest was the fact that 'all the evidence pointed at him', according to a spokesperson for the police. Sarif Industries is a recent victim of anti-augmentation protests-"

Apollo recognised the company name. They were a bio-tech corparation that specialised in producing expensive, sleek, high quality augmentations, selling their products to those who were willing to buy it. It was not rare to see someone walking about with a cyber-prosthesis. The company was founded in 2007 and quickly climbed up the ladder of fame and fortune. It was always experimenting with new technology and always facing physical backlash in the form of riots and protests and verbal backlash in the form of TV reporters and talkshow hosts openly criticising it. Somebody had something bad to say about Sarif Industries. On the other end of the spectrum, more and more people survived life threatening injuries thanks to augmentation. Another reward was that the technology seemed to grant augmented people more power over the ordinary bloke - upgraded strength, enhanced running speed, you name it. Apollo wasn't sure how he felt about this; he had no transparent opinion on the "Normal vs Aug" debate.

Knocking on the door shook him from his thoughts. He got up and went to open it.

Opening the door, he saw a woman holding a note in her hand. She was almost as tall as he was and very pretty; alluring blue eyes and long blonde hair. He saw she was wearing a dress and high-heels.

Her brow was furrowed and she glanced down at her note. "Um, is this residence of Apollo Justice?" she asked while brushing aside some of her hair. There were dark circles surrounding her eyes, probably from a lack of sleep... or something else. He nodded, unsure of what she wanted.

"Yes. Please, come in." The pretty lady did and he closed the door. It clicked shut.

Offered tea, the lady politely refused and instead, asked for coffee. They sat in the living room, quietly sipping their beverages. Until the lady broke the silence. "Is Mr Justice here today? I really need to see him. It's very urgent." Aforementioned person raised an eyebrow. How could she recognise him? "On what basis are you here to see me?" he leaned forward, his tone business-like.

"But you're not – oh. Sorry I didn't know it was you, Mr Justice," she apologised bashfully. "No, no, it's fine." "It's just when I imagined you, sir, I thought of someone who yelled everytime he spoke and did up his hair in the style of horns. Not a calm gentleman who offers drinks to strangers who visit his home. Based on what I've heard from people," was added quickly at the end. Apollo's face nearly fell. (T-That's all what people think of when they hear about me?!)

He recovered his good humour. "I can be both when I want to be."

"My name is Sissel Ichete," the smartly dressed visitor introduced herself. "I am seeking representation for my husband. Everyone I asked – they, they all recommened you. Saying that you are one of the best lawyers in town."

"Your husband – he's been arrested for murder, wasn't he?"

"How-"

"I just saw it on the news before you arrived. This must be difficult for you. ...You want me to defend your husband?"

"Yes. Because I know my Yommy wouldn't hurt a fly!" Sissel shrilled.

(Yowhza! She's louder than me...)

"Sorry, sorry. It's just..." she broke down into sobbing. Apollo tried his best to comfort her.

"Miss Ichete, I can't promise I'll accept your case, that all depends on your husband. But can you tell me where he is right now?"

He got a nod. "The... Detention... Centre..."

Apollo pocketed his phone and his keys. He threw on his coat. "Miss, can you please wait here? I'll be back in a few minutes." He locked his office.

"No. Please, I'll go with you. I want to see him."

"Alright, fine," he jabbed in a combination of digits on his phone.

"Hugh, it's me. I need you down at the detention centre... okay, I'll see you there."

#

"I take it you're Mr Ichete?"

A pair of sunglasses glinted in the poorly lit room. (Geez, how does he even to see with those things on...?)

"Who's asking?" said Yomiel, dully.

"Your conselour."

Sunglasses met hazel eyes through a barrier of bulletproof glass. Apollo Justice and Yomiel Ichete were in the Detention Centre, on either side of a thick, transparent pane.

"Your wife asked for me. She's very worried about you."

That brought a smile to the blonde's face. "Sissel? I knew she'd find me a lawyer in no time. Smart and resourceful, that's what she is. ...Where is she?"

A staccato clicking of high heels answered that question. "Right here, darling. I'm not going anywhere," she promised. "How've they been treating you?"

Yomiel managed a shrug. "Fine, all things considered. Just questioning, mostly. I'm glad it's over for now."

"Sorry, Mr Ichete, but the Questions aren't going stop; I've got some of my own. Let's start with the obvious. Did you kill him?"

The reaction was instantanious and unexpected. Yomiel face's scrunched up into a toothy scowl. His hands curled into fists. Justice felt the anger roll off the man in waves.

"I didn't kill nobody! I keep telling 'em they have the wrong guy and they won't listen to me! They grilled for hours on end and I tell 'em the same thing over and over: 'I did not kill the tech guy.' No one believes me." He let his head drop. His shoulders sagged and he interlace his fingers in his lap.

Sissel put a hand to her mouth. Apollo simply smirked. No tension in his wrist, no stiffening of the veins and arteries. This man was not lying.

"I believe you, Mr Ichete. You didn't kill anybody," the counselour smoothly assured his client. Who looked up at him, shock all over his face.

"You do? Man, you're the first person to actually listen and believe. Thanks."

"I am accepting your case and I'll make sure you get a 'not guilty' verdict."

The Ichetes thanked him, smiles beaming from their faces. They had hope now.

"Down to business. Who were you accused of killing?"

"Some guy called Tim Carrela. He and I work in the same department: Cyber security."

"And you're, what? A technician? A specialist?"

"Systems engineer. One of the best in the industry. That's the reason why Sarif industries hired me – I am very good at what I do."

"Okay. Can you tell me your version of events on the night of the murder?" Apollo got a pen and pad at the ready.

"Yeah, okay. On the night of September the 2nd, I was at my workstation, finishing up. It was late."

"Can you give me an exact time period?"

"...I think it was like, from eleven to eleven twenty. Yeah. I locked my office and I went to Carrela. I needed to clarify something with him. Security matters, you know. He was fine, he was healthy, he was breathing. Not dead." (Yeah, I think I get the point, Yomiel.)

"I talked with him for about two minutes and then I went home. Next thing I know, the police are barging into my home, slapping cuffs on my wrists and saying 'You are hereby under arrest'. And you know the rest."

"Did the police say what your motive was?" asked Apollo. (I'm getting a picture here, albeit a fuzzy one.)

"They said something about me wanting to 'silence' him. I haven't got a clue in the slightest as to what the police were talking about," Yomiel sighed.

"Is that all?" Apollo wondered aloud.

"I think so. I don't remember any other details. Sorry," replied Yomiel.

Apollo glanced at Sissel. She was on the verge of tears.

(I need to get to the crime scene, pick up some more clues and question the witnesses... If there are any.)

"I, uh... give you two some time alone," he said awkwardly and got up.

He took out his phone and dialed his colleague's number. "Change of plans, Hugh. I need you at the crime scene. It's Sarif Industries. ...Yep, he's the one. ...I'll see you there."

#

Apollo and Hugh meet on the front steps of the company building. It stood 29 floors high. It was one of the most buildings in the city and easily recognisable. Unprofesionally parked police cars dotted around the main entance. A couple of officers were chatting amongst themselves. Justice and O'Conner headed inside.

On the scene, Apollo and Hugh went up the escalator leading to the first floor. "So what did our guy tell you?" questioned Hugh. "I took his statement: He was in the victim's office at 11:20, spent two minutes there talking to the victim and then he went home," responded Apollo.

"And you believe him?"

"Absolutely. He wasn't telling empty tales; that I'm sure of. But there was no point pressing him further, he's had a rough morning and I don't want my clients angry because of me."

"Murder in a place like this, that's a high-profile case. My first client, and it's a high profile case. Great. You know what this means?"

Apollo affirmed. He was well acquainted with the media's style; they would to garner any pieces of information while putting their own little spin on the story, opinating it. They arrived on the first floor.

The area before them was cut off by yellow tape. CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION – NO TRESPASSING read repeatedly on it. An officer on duty stood by, watching them.

Apollo flashed his attorney badge at the policeman. The officer held up a hand. "Sorry, no unathorised personnel."

"Last time I checked, Defence Attorneys are allowed to investigate the Crime Scene."

"Yeah, but you're not authorised," responded the man in blue.

"This guy giving you a hard time, Apollo?" a female voice interrupted.

It was Ema Skye, wearing her labcoat over some casual dress. "Let them pass, she ordered her subordinate, who grudgingly obliged. He pulled back the tape, and the lawyers stepped in to the crime scene.

"Long time, no see, Mr Justice," she grinned, giving him a quick hug. "It's great to see you too, Ema," Apollo said honestly.

"And who is this?" asked the detective, turning to Apollo's employee.

"Oh him?" Apollo gestured to Hugh. "This is Hugh O'Conner, My new... partner. Hugh, this is Ema Skye. She's a detective I occasionally work with."

Hugh and Ema shook hands. "Pleasure to meet you, detective Skye." "Likewise, Herr O'Conner."

Justice raised an eyebrow. "What? I've been learning from Klavier."

"How's Gavin?" Apollo asked, entering the office... where the victim died. There was an outline of white tape showing in what position the victim died. There were three officers categorising evidence and taking photos.

"Fine as ever, Herr Forehead," a sultry, accent-tinged masculine voice spoke cheerfully.

Klavier Gavin, rockstar/prosecutor, faced the brunette and flashed his winning, Mega-Watt smile.

"Have we met before?" Klavier asked, shaking Hugh O'Conner's hand.

"No, I don't think so," Hugh frowned.

Gavin grinned, "A pleasure to have you onboard, Herr O'Conner."

"What happened to him? The victim, I mean," Apollo asked, standing over the chair in which the victim was found in.

"Stabbed in the back of the neck, pierced several veins, judging by how quickly he bled to death. Two to five minutes max," Ema answered, joining them.

She handed Apollo a folder. He opened it.

"A swiss knife? Carrella was killed with a swiss army knife?"

"Yup. And guess whose prints we found on it~" Ema said in a sing-song voice.

"Was there any resistance? Did Mr Carrella fight back his attacker?" asked Hugh, his eyes tracing the white outline.

"I mean, could he have? To strike someone from behind in the neck, they'd have to be totally unaware."

"We're not sure," replied Kavier. "The body is at the morgue right now, being analysed as we speak." Apollo silently took in all the information, thinking.

"Ichete said something about 'silencing' Carrella. What was he talking about?" Apollo had a feeling whatever the reason was, it was why Yomiel Ichete was arrested.

"Carrella and Ichete, they were partners in crime," began Ema. "They stole samples of Neurpozyne from the lab and distributed it out on the streets."

"Neuropozyne? What's that?" Hugh made a face. Whatever it was, it sounded weird.

"This company makes high-quality artificial limbs, organs, you name it. In order for the flesh to properly bond with the metal , a drug that strengthens the connection is administered on a regular, if not daily, basis. Problem is for most people out there, it's very expensive. A lack of it can lead to limb-rejection syndrome, depression, anxiety or in the most extreme cases, insanity."

(Jesus. I had no idea dependence on one little substance is so high.).

"You get the picture," said Ema.

"Carrella and Ichete, they constantly snuck into one of the basement labs and took out a few samples every time. Ichete would disable the security cameras, while his pal would go in and steal the drug."

Apollo could only conclude where this was going – (He was killed for fear of him revealing their operations.). "W-What proof do you have?" his lips were dry.

"Well..." Klavier called one of the men over who gave him a sleek laptop. The prosecutor set it down on the desk.

"Isn't that crime scene contamination?" Hugh dumbly asked.

"Nein, mein Freund. Das ist gut, ja?" Klavier switched on the computer and a cadre of files appeared on-screen. He clicked on one and an email came up.

_Yo, Tim_

_We're almost out of Neupoz, you hear me? Meet me in my office so we can prep the next op. If anyone asks why you're out of your workstation, tell them it's to consult me on the firewall or something. I recommend the usual time. Quarter past eleven. Less chance of us being spotted. We need to fulfil the quota, Timmy and I need your help with this. Get in touch with our guy and tell him everything will sail smoothly._

_Your pal, Ichete_

"This is just one example of correspondence between our drug dealers," Ema stated, disgusted.

"How often did these robberies occur?"Apollo's stomach did a somersault; his client was in very hot water at the moment.

"Every week on the sixth day at 23:15 sharp. That specific time period comes up in more than a few of these," Ema filled himin.

"Are there any witnesses?"

"There are three, Herr Forehead; the security manager, and two computer wizards who work in the department as Ichete."

"We should question the witnesses," Hugh recommended to his boss, recieving an agreeing nod.

"Unfortunately, the security manager has special clearance, so we can't just make him come here. If you can find him, he's fair game."

Rubbing his neck, Apollo said, "Special clearance?"

"Yeah, I thought the same thing as you when I heard about it – what complete and utter bullshit! What if the witness gets hurt and turns out he is unavalible for the trial or he'll run for it and not testify. But, rules are rules. The Chief Prosecutor authorised it. He and the CEO are like, really good friends, or something," Ema said, chewing on a Snackoo.

Hugh was not dettered. "Are the others still here?" "Ja, naturlich."

"Okay." Hugh adjusted his spectacles.

"Can I, uh, ask them some questions?" O'Conner faced Apollo.

(I see a burning fire in his eyes; I doubt he'll take no for an answer.).

"Yeah, fine," Apollo shrugged nonchalantly. Any info Hugh gleamed from the witnesses could potentially be useful during the trial. Police sometimes overlooked crucial stuff, even their best men. And women.

Hugh left the room, in search of the interviewees.

"We'd have the guy bang to rights without a doubt, but the security camera on this floor is busted. According to the chief of cyber security, it fizzed out shortly after Mr Ichete entered the victim's office," Ema said, playing with loose strands of her hair.

"This case would be so much easier if we had that Little Thief equipment by now," Klavier sighed, brushing away locks of platnium blonde hair.

"Little thief? Sounds like a plush toy if you ask me," commented Apollo.

Klavier burst out laughing. Ema settled for a broad smile.

"It's actually sophisticated tech," chuckled Ema. "Used, refined and redesigned by Kay Faraday. She has the original."

Apollo had heard about Kay Faraday on TV recently. She was a detective working for Interpol. Apparently, she used to help the former Chief Prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth, when he was in the prime of his career. Now, that career was as good as dead. Miles Edgeworth was not coming back. Not after what happened to him.

"Our police department is one of the few around the world that get's to test an early version," Ema boasted.

"How does it work exactly," wondered Justice aloud.

"Hm, I dunno. You'll be the first to know when I get my copy. Aside from Klavier, of course."

Apollo stepped closer to Ema, then glanced around. He needed to unload some things off his choulders.

"Do you have any word from Athena?"

The detective pursed her lips. "No. I'm sorry, but she says she doesn't want to see you again. 'Ever'."

The attorney's shoulders sagged. He had thought as much. "That restraining order is still in in effect, by the way."

Restraining order. Those were the last words he had heard Athena ever say to him. Apollo still remembered that night. The night almost everything was toppled over in Apollo's world. Crying. Sobbing. Yelling. Shouting. Aggresive body language. A red Widget. The door slamming. Apollo remembered what they argued about. Their boss. Who had been missing for four days (and still was). Whether to look for him or not. He momentarily closed his eyes. The mental images were swept aside, replaced by confidence and determination to win the case at hand.

"Thanks for... informing me," he murmered. Skye patted him on the shoulder. "You're fine, you are fine."

"That's me. Mr Fine."

Changing the topic, "I thought police had to check everything before arresting a suspect. This investigation feels kinda sloppy, based on what I've seen so far."

Ema scowled, "We _did_ check everything Apollo. The guy's background, his family tree, his record, everything. But, this does feel like someone is trying to dig a shallow grave and bury this case fast. Get it over and done with."

"She seemed zealous when making the arrest..." Gavin muttered to himself.

"Regardless of what she behaved like , Klav, the prosecutor did the right thing."

Prosecutor? She? More questions formed in Apollo's head.

"Who are we talking about? Seeing you here, I thought you were the prosecutor assingend to this case," Apollo jerked his head at Klavier Gavin.

The rockstar prosecutor rubbed the back of his neck. This was awkward.

"Not really. I'm just here to help mein Leblings Detektive," He walked over to Ema and kissed her on the check. This didn't faze Apollo in the least. He was well aware of their close relationship.

"Then who's the prosecutor?"

"_Prosecutess_. Franziska von Karma. I know her because we used to work with Mr Egeworth, Kay and this other guy – tall and broad as a bear – for the Interpol."

That name sent a shiver up Apollo's spine. He knew who Franziska von Karma was. From the youth of Phoenix Wright's law career.

"I thought she was working abroad."

"She still comes back every now and again to 'prove all those foolish defence attorneys are fools'," replied Klavier.

(Yikes...) "I heard she has a whip..."

"Oh, yeah,that. Trust me, you'll see her use it a lot, especially in court. She carries it everywhere she goes. It's almost as if it's an extended part of her. But that's impossible, scientifically speaking."

(That doesn't help at all, Ema...)

A buzzing noise filled the air. It was Ema Skye's phone vibrating in her pocket. She took it out and looked at the Caller ID. "Boys, I gotta this. Klavier, don't touch anything until I get back," she pointed at the prosecutor and he laughed it off. The sound of her high-heels clicking subdued. She was gone. The trio of photographers had also disappeared. Apollo had not noticed their abscence until now.

Silence reigned. Finally, Apollo broke it.

"Any luck finding Mr Wright?"

Not the sort of question one would ask out of the blue. That was what Klavier thought upon hearing it.

"Not much, mein Freund. He's vanished into thin air. Mein Fraulein Detektive is worried sick about him. Thank goodness you did not mention Herr Wright in front of her. She would have been very upset. The other day, she visited Herr Edgeworth."

"Why?"

"Only she knows. Every week or so she comes by the hospital and it's the same every time: no progress. At home, she is randomly becoming upset: her moods change like the weather in Europe."

Apollo was not the only one affected by events six months ago. That much was clear to him. He was grateful that apart from his half-sister, the Glimmerous Fop and the Scientific Detective were there to pick up the pieces and help him get back on the road.

"On a happier note, Herr Forehead, there is going to be a -" from his peripherals, Gavin saw the love of his life entering the office. "I'll tell you some other time."

"Good news," Ema cheerfully pronounced. "The autopsy report is ready. I'll send you a copy as soon as I can," She promised Justice.

#

Hugh O'Conner was once a snarky individual who'd constantly thought of himself as a 'genius'. No more. But, he was sure he had just discovered his successor: Francis Pritchard. Pritchard was the main technician at Sarif Industries – the Chief of Cyber-Security. And he was a jerk. Rude and condenscising, he never wasted an opportunity to show off he was better than everyone else. Five minutes into the conversation, he snidely insulted his appearance and said most of the employees working here were cretins who wasted a perfectly potentially good days of work on chatting, 'browsing the web' (extra emphasis on 'browsing') or staring at a television screen in the canteen.

Hugh knew this wasn't true. Sarif Industries was a busy company with a tight schedule, a wide market and no stranger to controversy. He and Mr Pritchard stood at the cyber-security manger's desk, playing back footage from the camera on the second floor facing Tim Carrella's office. According to Pritchard, it always remained stationary and that a minute after the supposed murder entered the office, causally sauntering in, the top of his banana-shaped hair bouncing a little (He must've used a whole bottle of gel, Hugh mused.), the camera crashed. The timestamp on the bottom left hand corner read 11:21 before it died, fizzling into a grey, blurry image.

"What happened there?" Hugh asked.

"At that time, the power to all cameras on the second floor was cut. Why? Because a industrial cutter was found in the basement power distribution room, jammed right into the electricity box," Francis provided.

(Maybe the real culprit did it... I don't know. No, Hugh. Don't doubt yourself. Take this info in. Keep it for later. This could be important.)

"So what did you see, Mr Pritchard?" rebalancing his glasses, Hugh asked.

Pritchard regarded him for a moment. "I was on my way out. I saw my two colleagues talking -"

"Your two colleagues?"

"Yes," Francis snapped, annoyed at being interrupted. Seeing that scowl brought satisaction to Hugh's heart. He should try that again. "They work under me in the same department. I think you have _enough_ of a brain to figure out the rest of that statement."

Laughter. Echoing and stiff.

#

_Laughter. Brittle and humourless. The jacket-wearing man chortled to himself._

"_Yeah, that sounds Francis alright, the sort of thing he'd do."_

_Location: The Blue room (as dubbed by Apollo)_

_Date: 11th December_

_Time: ?_

_Yomiel swore under his breath, most likely cursing Pritchard's name._

_'John Smith' and the others just listened._

"_Hugh and me got our heads together at the end of the day. We talked about what we learnt about the case. Obviously, I left out certain details like mentioning Mr Wright or asking about her," he jerked to the side, at the person behind him._

"_The other witness, a guy called Brian Tindall, was being dodgy and evasive when Hugh 'interviewed' him. Turns out he had a reason. More on that later. Anywho, Hugh managed to get his statement..."_

_#_

There was nothing notable about Brian Tindall. Average height, average weight, decent worker. A black technician who supposedly saw the murder of Tim Carrella. (There is no way this guy is a reliable witness) Hugh thought to himself. The SI employee was jittery and nervous. Every question he was asked, Tindall gave vague half-answers. Hugh was ready to give up asking him – the man was wreck on the verge of meltdown. But then, Tindall grabbed O'Connor's notepad and scribbled down his statement. He was nervous and sweat dribbled down his forehead. The officer supervising the questioning stated it was over. Hugh barely had enough information to show for his efforts and so, he went dissapointed back up to his boss who was likely still on the first floor.

#

* * *

AN:

Updates: I will try to update every 3-4 weeks

This story is sort of a crossover.

The reason why it is not posted in the Crossover section is because it shouldn't be. The backdrop is Ace Attorney. The timeline is Ace Attorney's. Basically, I'm merging other franchises together with Ace Attorney, creating its own little unique universe.

Yomiel is from 'Ghost trick', also created by Capcom. 'Ichete' is the surname I made up for him and his wife.

Sarif Industries, Francis Pritchard, Tim Carrella and Brian Tindall are from 'Deus ex: Human revolution', developed by Eidos Montreal and published by Square Enix.

Unless stated otherwise, all characters are from one of the three featured franchises. OCs WILL feature in this story and I will gladly point them out.

Again, constructive criticism is welcomed and I will take any errors made and try to fix them.

One last thing: I seriously have almost Zero Confidence writing this fanfic. I need to hear my readers' voices. Thanks to those who reviewed, keep 'em coming! I know what direction I'm going to take this in, so don't worry about pointless filler chapters.

Thanks for reading!


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